


Dream A Little Dream

by dirtdove



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, F/M, i dont think this can get cheesier?, i reject the creator's reality and substitute my own, warning: hot make out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-08 15:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20838167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtdove/pseuds/dirtdove
Summary: After Azula's defeat at the palace, Katara spends every waking moment trying to heal Zuko. Unable to let herself rest, Zuko tells her a story of sorts.





	Dream A Little Dream

The sun was setting on the third consecutive day that Katara spent bent over Zuko’s trembling body.

After he was struck, Zuko had barely crossed the threshold of the courtyard before he collapsed in the palace walls. Servants streamed out of the woodwork to carry him away. They bowed to her severely, explaining they would take care of their prince as well as herself. She was too shocked to process the titles they bestowed on her--

_Master Waterbender, please rest_; _Lady Waterbender, this way to your chamber_; _Sifu Waterbender, fish or fowl?_

Instead, she commanded he never be out of her sight. No one dared argue with her because Katara’s will was as defiant and passionate as the most dangerous firebenders. She talked her way around the most senior medics until they let her prove that she was the only one who could keep him alive. Her prowess as a healer was unrivaled, completely immeasurable compared to the capacities of the medical unit of the Fire Nation royal court. She tirelessly patched together muscles, stitched tendons, and eased pain.

Katara refused to take her own room, at the risk of gossip by the otherwise cordial staff. She slept in a cot by his side, working through the dark of the night to savor the light of the moon. She excused herself by explaining the moon was her god and gave her the power to endure almost anything. Even if it were a placebo, it’s gentle light strengthened her.

Anxious, nightmarish thoughts festered in her sleep deprived body.

_He isn’t yet Fire Lord. Anyone can kill him and take it now._

_There’s still time for the servants to poison him._

_If Aang lost...Zuko might be our last hope._

Then came Azula’s taunts, _“I’m about to celebrate becoming an only child!”_

_She_ said it was the showdown that was meant to be. Azula’s cackling, her wild hair, her fluid motions like a two-headed rat viper; she was more demon than girl. Everything about her haunted Katara. Azula surely had compatriots who would not recognize Zuko as their Fire Lord. Any moment now, someone could bust right through that door--

“Katara.”

Zuko raised his hand to hold Katara’s wrist.

She rested her bending water in a bucket at the side of the bed. Katara dragged her chair close by his side and he reached for her hand again. Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

“Great, considering.” His smile was warm and radiating. It broke her heart in two.

He’d been in and out of consciousness, muttering deliriously in his sleep while his body healed. She leaned her head down, the dark curtain of waves spilling on the bed. At least he seemed to be in control of his facilities.

“It’s going to scar,” she whispered. Her hand, once glowing, now rested atop his chest.

“What’s one more?” Zuko smiled brightly, despite the pain she knew he was in.

“You stubborn fool.” Her breath was stuck in her throat, shaving off the edge she wished to harness.

"How long have I been out?" Zuko scooped her hand into his own.

She shrugged indifferently. "Two and a half days or so."

Two and a half days of him writhing in discomfort, his feverish skin slick with cold sweats, whispering her name. Katara bowed her head, tears prickling, daring to well over. She took his hand and examined his singed fingertips, the ones that held the lightning that was to end her. She kissed each of them and then his palm.

His hands were coarse under her own skin. She imagined each blister and callus had been made in equal parts through combat and bending. It seemed like no matter how much the world hurt him, Zuko would always hurt himself worse. He was an arm’s length away but it felt like an ocean.

“Thank you, Katara.” The way he spread her name out on his tongue, the way a spirit might begin a curse, tightened something in her chest.

“Fool,” she whispered feebly again. She was hoarse and tired, weak as though her soul had gone limp.

“You defeated Azula. Everything I will ever have, I owe to you.” He was solemn, his mouth stiff but his honey-eyes soft.

She could have said anything that came to mind.

_You would have been better off on your own. _

_You never should have chosen me. _

_You never should have liked me. Like-like, I mean. Even if it was brief, and in a cave._

She settled on, "Can you sit up? How are you feeling?"

He fingered through the warm brown waves that touched the sheets. "We have servants and medical staff. You don't have to do this. You can rest." He watched her face with concern. "Have _you_ slept?"

She was impatient now, "Well, can you, or can't you."

"I feel fine." Zuko sat up to prove himself, twitching when he twisted at his abdomen. Just to spite her, he climbed out of bed. He stretched his arms above his head, and she watched each muscle ripple under his skin. He twisted, touched his toes, then walked around the bed. He stood in front of her, his countenance shining into her. When she tore her gaze away from his, the only thing in her vision was the scar. His hand ghosted over it, as though if he passed over it enough, it would disappear.

He looked down at himself, hesitantly grazing his fingertips over his chest. From years of training and fighting, Zuko's body had accumulated nicks and burns everywhere. He realized they had dulled, while the new one resting below his heart had set like a sunflair. He sat to face her again, failing to hide the flinching of his gut from Katara. She watched him critically, her parted mouth ready to harp on him for his stubbornness. Before she could get a word out, he sneaked under the covers, pulling the duvet over his head, his mop of hair sticking out.

She bowed her head towards him quizzically, “If you are so well, why go back to bed?”

His eyes peeked out hesitantly, then a hand motioned for her attention.

She leaned in, curious despite herself. “It’s good,” he whispered.

“It’s good,” Katara repeated, incredulous.

“Cm’ere, try it.” His voice was muffled between layers of downy blankets.

She lied down stiffly, next to him and atop the sheets. She let her eyes trace the ornate embellishments of the bed canopy. The wood was carved with clean and careful craftsmanship that Katara appreciated, having never been talented at artistic endeavors.

The satiny curtains that were drawn closed on two sides of the bed glittered with flecks of gold. The more she stared at the blurry shapes, the more the images appeared to her; dragons twisted in the air, the shape of the sun hidden by clouds, swirls of fire were locked in a dance. The mattress was deliciously soft, softer than Appa, softer than anything the last year of her life afforded her. The scarlet linens were so rich and smooth that the fibre was almost like water. She felt her muscles loosen, her mind wandered. From this angle, she could take in the monstrous enormity of the mattress.

She was reminded of the delicious tartness of the last sea-prune in the stew.

Katara agreed, “This is good.”

“I don’t think you’ve slept. You should sleep." When her mouth opened to argue, Zuko interrupted her thought with a curiosity: "It’s easy under here.”

He turned onto his back, matching her. Their pinkies almost touched, but for the sheets separating them.

“Waking up as Fire Lord must make it easier.”

He grumbled something unintelligibly, so she strained her ears to listen. “I’m barely anything.”

She rolled onto her side to look at him. His eyes were fixed on the canopy. “What do you mean?”

He was hesitant to explain. “I haven’t been coronated yet. Honestly, it might be years. From my bed, I can pretend to be whatever I want.”

She pressed her hand on his shoulder, shoving him slightly. “Tell me.”

He let out a long breath while she loosened the beads from her hair, setting them on the end table.

“I’m pretending I’m a prince,” his voice still muffled under the blankets.

“Zuko,” her voice waxing serious, “Are you still sick?”

She moved to put a hand to his forehead, to which he shrunk further into the sheets. “I know I’m a real prince, but I wish I could be a pretend one, with a happy family. I wish Uncle would just be Fire Lord."

"What would be so different?" She felt herself sink into the bed further and further, her eyelids starting to droop. "If Iroh were Fire Lord, that is."

"There wouldn't have been any war. We would have grown up in peace."

She bit down a yawn from escaping. "Would you still want to be Lord?"

"One day, but not for a good twenty-five years, after Uncle passes in his sleep and my father chokes to death on a komodo-chicken bone.” 

Katara chuckled. The sound of it lightened the air around them, soothing his face. She watched him expectedly.

He continued, “But for now, I’m just a lame teen. I’m not a prodigy at firebending, so I take up the broadswords. My mother scolds me for neglecting my mathematics and history, but I’m pretty good at economic theory and my language classes.”

Katara slipped her shoes off so she could rest more comfortably in the bed. “Why language?”

Zuko’s cheeks waxed red. “I like to read...and write. If you learn more than one language, you get better at your own. I haven’t been able to study it for years.”

“You like ballads, right?” He was stunned, eyes round. She tried to ignore him, as well as the shiver that ran down her back despite her clothes. She thought that it must be the draft from the window, sending a chill through the room. Katara admitted to herself, it was as good a reason as any to get under the covers, too.

He hesitantly asked, “How could you know what I like to read?”

“One time, you paraphrased lines from a poem to me." She yawned, this time not bothering to hide her call to sleep. "I mean, you we’re trying to kidnap Aang, but still.”

The whites of his teeth glinted in the encroaching darkness. “I can’t remember every time I tried to kidnap Aang,” he chuckled, “Which instance in particular?”

“At the Northern Water Tribe. It was the poem about separated lovers.”

Realization bloomed as mottled red cheeks in his fair skin. “Oh, the one that goes--”

Katara shushed him, “I got it, I got it.”

She recalled: 

> “One rises with the moon,
> 
> One rises with the sun;
> 
> Only in dream do they meet,
> 
> Then their love is undone.
> 
> In opposing paths
> 
> Their thread is spun.
> 
> From the spirits they beg
> 
> For their love to be won.”

Katara might have edged on madness, because she _swore_ the gold of his eyes flickered warmer.

“You’re very good at recitation. That one was always my favorite.”

“That time...why did you say that? That I rose with the moon, and you rose with the sun.” Katara’s face felt hot but she refused to leave the safety of the duvet.

Zuko shrugged, the sheets rustling in response. “I had a small crush on you. A tiny one. It was insane of me. I don't have to list all the reasons.”

Her mind raced.

_The reasons?_

The reasons she should have hated him, or the reasons Zuko liked her?

Katara’s face was fully flushed, her mouth agape but words refusing to form. Her heart thumped traitorously in her chest. She never thought he'd had a crush on her for _that_ long.

“Hey, don’t take it the wrong way. It was a stupid little crush."

Was it just her, or could he read her mind?

Zuko shook his head at her thought, "No, Katara, you just said that aloud."

She gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth.

"I didn’t know you knew the poem.” Despite himself, his face was radiating heat. “Let me get back to my story.”

Katara nodded her head vigorously. She inched closer to him, her knees brushing against his. “Good. So the point is, yes, I like language, and poetry too, because it's an art that anyone can enjoy, and because it’s nice to share with _friends_.”

She scoffed.

“Yes, I have friends, especially the Prince and Princess of the Southern Water Tribe. The Prince is wise and tactical, yet oafish and crude--”

Katara giggled, “And can’t tell a joke worth his salt!”

“--And the Princess is witty and courageous, but prideful and stubborn--”

“Hey!”

“--And she is my favorite person to write, because her stubbornness makes her determined to become the best waterbender in the world. One day, she will be able to kill with the flex of a wrist, yet be gentle enough to save with a touch.”

Her head dipped under the covers, her blue eyes bright in the dark. Her fingers brushed at the shape of his second scar.

“She wants to know if she should fight Sokka for the position of Chief when the time comes, or if she should relent. Sokka's tactical skill is impressive but Katara's warmth emboldens her people to a cause. I'm not sure what to tell her. What would you?”

She pursed her lips in thought.

"If she doesn't become Chief, what else might she do with her life?"

"She could become a master, she can travel the world looking for other waterbenders. She can share her healing power with the other three Nations, helping the poor and the downtrodden. She could come visit me at the palace and we can train."

Katara snorted. "You mean spend an entire life just hanging out? Like as a pet?"

"No, I mean train. They could learn a lot from each other."

His face was stony with resolution. Katara's eyebrows knitted together. Her mind was too fuzzy to think clearly.

"Fire and water are opposing elements. How would they help each other?"

"Water can put out fire, but water can also encourage a fire. The way our bodies are water, they are also fire. Water heals and is eternal, while fire is our inner will, and can burn out if we neglect to pass it on. Like a set of candles, one shares a flame with another. Though, I'm definitely not talented enough to bend people-fire the way you bend people-water."

Her heart raced when he caught her staring. His sharp jaw and high cheek seemed to flicker in the light of the orange sconces on the walls.

"So fire… Is love?" She whispered as though someone might sneak up on them.

"Yeah. Fire can only exist as long as love exists."

"But you had said before, when your bending couldn't work, that your fire came from anger?"

"Anger is one side of love. They push and pull."

"How?” She was aghast, “These ones are definitely opposites."

He chuckled. "I was angry at myself for years, because my mother was taken away instead of me. I deserved to die, not her."

Her eyes prickled, blinking away moisture. "You didn't deserve to die." She was speaking from experience so he knew he couldn't argue with her. Both Katara’s strength and weakness came from her mother as well. She let the streams of tears flow, because he wouldn't, or because he ran out of tears. She tentatively wrapped an arm around his torso and pressed her face against his ribs. His fingers tenderly weaved through her hair before his arms wrapped around her. Zuko cupped her wet jaw, gently tilting her face. He twisted his head to show her his first scar.

"At a meeting my father _graciously_ allowed me to attend, I was angry and spoke out of turn. A general was going to sacrifice my countrymen in order to attack the Earth kingdom. My love for my people emboldened me, and my father's love for power burnt me. I still loved him. I thought that if I could bring him the Avatar, he would love me, too."

His scar-side fell back on the pillow. The air was hot between them. Katara was stifling her whimpers, embarrassed by the sound of her mourning, a sound for a woman she didn't even know. Katara detested being only a spectator to his pain. His voice soothed her while he gingerly combed her hair away from her face. She felt bare to Zuko.

"Katara, when you bend, can you do it by only pushing water?"

Her brows furrowed. "No, you also have to have to pull it. Where are you going with this?"

"Fire is like that too." He paused, chewing over his next words. "I've seen you turn water to ice hundreds of times. But have you ever turned it hot?"

She hesitated, thinking. "A few times, but I never really thought about it."

"I'm sure the same way you can freeze it, you can steam it, or boil it. If you were to hit someone with hot water, they burn."

"Like fire." Katara could barely breathe. She cleared her throat before asking, "If Princess Katara from the story was to go train with Prince Zuko, how would the forms work? Wouldn't they be hard to transfer over?"

Zuko shook his head. "The form I did to redirect lightening was developed from waterbenders. Uncle learned by studying with them." The way Zuko's warm eyes gazed into her own, Katara thought she might melt under him. "I think they could both become powerful benders by learning from each other."

Katara pressed her hand to the second scar again. Zuko's heart beat erratically under his skin. His cheeks flushed, his lips parted. She was suddenly aware of how close they lay.

"Then, I think Princess Katara would travel a lot. See the world on her own, and sometimes go train with the Prince. Instead of becoming chief or getting married or whatever."

"Married?” Zuko half smiled. “Who said that would be an option for her?"

“Hey, why not?” Her hands rested on his clavicles, her fingers playing where the skin dipped.

“She is too much of a spit-fire and she is unyielding. Most guys can’t handle it, so a well paired arranged marriage would be difficult.” He ran his fingers down her neck, sending shivers down her body. With the flat of his hand he grazed down her back over the cloth of her tunic, finally playing with the fabric at the curve of her waist.

“Why can’t she marry for love?”

He shrugged, “Maybe she will, one day.” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “But people don’t always marry the one they love.”

Her mouth was a hair’s breadth away from his throat.

Her voice tickled him, “Why not.” It came out more like a command.

“A lot of people rely on the Princess. In her, she holds a thousand teachings, a thousand possibilities." He grasped her body closer to his, as though he could keep her from running away. "She must go where the stream flows, and I think it flows far away from the palace in the caldera.”

She hated how artfully he danced around her question.

"Does the prince..." Her hand fisted his tunic where it touched his chest. "Does the prince love the princess?"

Zuko’s sleeve is wet by the silent tears trailing down her face, again.

“The Prince…” He started, and choked on the words. "He almost died for her, once. He'd do it again."

Zuko's heart pounded in his chest like it would beat right out of him, his breath shaky as if his ribs had shattered. She threaded her hands in his hair, forcing his wet eyes to meet her determined ones. Her elbows dug into the bed at either side of his head.

"What of the curse?” she asked.

"The curse?" Zuko's face wound in confusion, and by her willingness to play along.

"Haven't you heard?" Katara whispered conspiratorially, "Spirits cursed them. Every night, the princess goes to bed, and she dreams of the prince, but knows she can never have him."

"Every night?"

"Yes, I can confirm it personally."

"What does she dream?"

"She dreams..." He searches her serene face, afraid she's finally gotten to sleep without finishing her part of the story. Zuko tilted her chin to see for sure.

He didn't realize Katara's body was alight, as though she had slept for three days instead of three hours. Every inch of her skin seared in the proximity to his, even his gaze burned her lips.

She continued, "Every night she dreams they lay like this..."

Katara shifted slightly so she was half on top of him; his thigh between her legs, her breasts pushed into his chest.

"And she does this," Katara cradled his face delicately in her hands. "When she leans in to touch her lips to his, he disappears into light."

His breath was hot on her lips when he finally spoke. "One day, he might return her touch."

She pulled his face into hers, her mouth pressed hard on his, feeling his teeth through what could barely be called a kiss.

Embarrassed, she tried to push him away. He grabbed her shoulder and caught her lips in his, pressing his as foolishly hard as she had done. Her hand weaved around his waist, closing the gap between their bodies. Their lips became pliable, bare skin scorching where they met. Katara's lips grazed his neck, enamored by how he trembled under her touch.

Katara requested, “How does it end?”

He hummed in thought. “Well, the Prince has two years of trade and relations to catch up on before he would be old enough for the crown, anyway.”

Zuko’s hands raked up her bare thighs, her red tunic traveling up inch by inch. “So if she elects to train with him, they can while away the time as they please.”

Katara raised her arms so he could pull the tunic off. Her breasts were bare without her trademark sarashi, and they trembled with her wan breaths. 

Zuko sat up, straddling her thighs. He ran his hands up over her hips, his palms brushed her chest, before folding his hands behind her head. He leaned all his weight into his elbows on either side of her. Her dark hair shone like water at night, her bright eyes holding him in place. Zuko's thumbs ran over her lips, sending a shiver down her body. He leaned in for another kiss, his mouth soft this time but his hands eagerly fondling her. Her hands ran up his thighs to his rippling abdomen and he hissed at her touch. Katara delighted in running fingers down the cut of his hips. He couldn’t breathe, his heart rang in his ears.

“So if she wants to learn how to--,” she tugged at his waistband gingerly, her nails lightly scraping lower, his face falling into her neck, “--make love?”

Zuko glanced at her thoughtfully.

"It might take some time, even a long time..." His tongue meandered down her neck, eliciting a desperate buck of her hips. “But yes, they’d figure it out eventually.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Sending lots of love to you all.


End file.
